Sunday Snap: Wild Geese

Beloved poet Mary Oliver passed away on Thursday at the age of 83.  Oliver’s poems were much inspired by the link between the natural world and spirituality.

When I read her poem Wild Geese back in 2015, it stirred me to write about my feelings of belonging, or lack thereof, and of my own place in the world.

Having lived through a number of moves, changes, and upheavals, my transitions often deemed me as a newcomer who will probably always feel a little like someone on the outside, looking in.*

Yet, when I read that poem and let the words sink in, they seem to grant me the freedom to love and experience all the things that mean the most to me. I can now belong in this life I’ve created, just as everyone belongs to the bigger picture that is the universe, to bear witness to a journey filled with joy, sorrow, and exquisite beauty.*

Of course, Mary Oliver said it better than I ever could:

photo: jenniferkellandperry.com

*Excerpts from my blog post: Belonging, March 12, 2015.
Many of the comments on your own feelings of belonging were a real eye-opener for me!

What is “your place in the family of things”?

Autumn Walk on the East Coast

Come along as we take a stroll through Newtown on this beautiful October day.

partridgeberries – a.k.a. lingonberries

The tide is high this afternoon.
Much of my next door neighbour’s garden is still summer lovely.



I stopped to admire another neighbour’s potato harvest. Of course, he insisted I take a bagful.
Dogberries, a true harbinger of Fall


Lobster traps
Mr. Blue Sky and me
Still wearing his shorts in October, and loving it

The Tickle




Our other neighbour is drying salt fish.
Freshly painted grapnels for next year’s fishing season
Kitties, you should have come with us.

Travel Theme: Foliage (and Other Living Things)

Trees and their foliage are, without a doubt, some of Nature’s most wondrous treasures.

But sometimes, the best photograph of a tree is not as much about the tree itself, but what is found in and among its foliage and branches.

Like in this photo I snapped in Varadero, Cuba, you may see tiny birds:

…two “love birds”, perhaps?

Or you might happen upon a couple of sister cats exploring among the leaves:

Paradise backyard, Newfoundland

And if you see a magnificent tree such as this one day, don’t be surprised to find little children playing among its sturdy limbs:

Bowring Park, St. John’s, Newfoundland

This has been my contribution to wheresmybackpack.com’s weekly Travel Theme.
This week: Foliage

Thank you for the inspiration, Ailsa!

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Summer

the sea breeze softly whispers
hot sun on my skin
the drone of bees, the sway of grass
the cloudless day begins

a bead of sweat runs down
I sigh with upturned face
consummate season’s reverie
in nature’s warm embrace

wild magenta roses
bright petals downy soft
tiny nodding buttercups
and butterflies aloft

boat with sail unfurled
glides out from little cove
horizon, mediterranean blue
the sea a treasure trove

the quietude is broken
a fisher homeward bound
his vessel leaves a foamy wake
then seabirds circle ’round

a lone tern drops and dives
the laughing gulls ignore
they soar o’er brimming neap tide
where kelp adorns the shore

beside crystalline water
wrapped in summer’s heat
reflections blur and coalesce
my past and present meet

the world is as it’s ought
vague worries fall away
caught in the brief eternity
of a summer day

 

Canada Day weekend..

Okay, this is the first time we ever had friends come to dinner – in a CANOE!




Another wonderful thing about living the coastal life. 🙂

Scenes From Italy – Part Four: Stresa

We said goodbye to half of our group whose time had come to fly home, as well as “ciao” to Tuscany, then the four of us rode by train to northern Italy.  Nestled by Lake Maggiore in the foothills of the Italian Alps, the pretty little town of Stresa was a welcome sight.  We checked into a B & B, our home for the next few days.

Bed and Breakfast

Lake Maggiore is the second largest lake in Italy.

We climbed the hill by cable car to see the magnificent view.
the Alps

Pippa, the resident cat at our B & B
Enjoying a refreshment!

Squeal of Seagulls

Seagulls, squealing a Spring duet,

Swim in pairs near rounded rocks,

Glide like swans in graceful concert

As domesticated flocks.

Salty breezes, lapping ebb tides

Racing waves that slap the shore

Flat horizon, sun-drenched plateau

Perfect point o’er which to soar.

Wheeling, wafting, white forms glinting,

All-consumed to multiply

Nests to feather, what e’er the weather

Tasks that cover sea and sky.

Sun sets, wind drops, cold fog creeps in

From the east without a sound

Just the squeal and cry of seagulls

Twilight song of fishing grounds.

There they wait for dove-gray babies

Soon to hatch with urgent cheeps

There they wait among the crab shells

Crouched in darkness, cold and deep.